Private Defender
by Writer Awakened
Summary: AA4. Kristoph/Dahlia. OMG LOL Crack OTP FTW wtf? When Dahlia Hawthorne stepped into the Public Defender's office, she didn't know what to expect. She certainly didn't expect HIM. SPOILERS for AA3 and AA4.


_Private Defender_

-

When Dahlia Hawthorne stepped into the Public Defender's office, she didn't know what to expect. She certainly didn't expect HIM.

"Who might you be?"

Dahlia Hawthorne stood in the front hallway of the office, a well-kept room with a crimson rug and marble walls. There were seats lined against two of the walls, and against another, a wooden counter and a young man standing behind it. The fellow had long blonde hair and a soft voice, slightly accented, that managed to stop her dead. She turned towards the counter.

"Melissa Foster," Dahlia answered, smiling sweetly.

"Well, Miss Foster? May I help you?" The man behind the counter brushed a strand of hair from his face. He was well-dressed in an impeccable black suit and a purple tie. "This is the Public Defender's office…I do hope you know this?"

"Of course I know," Dahlia said. "I came to…look."

"Look? That's strange, Miss. People usually only come here on business. I don't suppose you've found yourself in any trouble? Have you been assigned representation?"

Dahlia giggled. "No, no, nothing like that." She tilted her head to the side. "I just like making friends, that's all."

The young man behind the counter put his hand up in the air and shook his head. "A strange place to be making friends, the office of the Public Defender, don't you think, Miss Foster?"

"Maybe." Dahlia walked up to the counter and leaned over slightly. The young man was charismatic, and by the look in his eye, she could tell he was thinking something similar about her. "Do you mind if I ask your name?"

"Ah, where are my manners? I should have introduced myself first. My name is Kristoph Gavin," the young man said, and bowed.

Dahlia giggled. "That's a really nice name. It sounds German."

"Ja," Kristoph said, and Dahlia laughed again. He put his elbow on the table and leaned forward very slightly over the wooden divider. "Amusing?"

"That's cute."

"Thank you, Miss Foster. You see, I studied law in Germany. When I was 16, I moved here and passed the bar examination."

"So how old are you now?"

Kristoph smiled. "18," he said, and Dahlia's eyes lit up.

"Really? Me too!"

"Ah, a coincidence then, yes?" Kristoph smiled again. "So, are you interested in studying law?"

"Oh, no, no, not really," Dahlia said, blushing. "I don't really know that much about law, really…"

"What better time to learn than now?"

Dahlia thought for a moment, then put her elbows on the wooden counter, balanced her face on her fists, and looked into Kristoph's eyes. She laughed. "Sure, I'd love to learn what you know."

Kristoph's eyes flashed and he stood up straight. "I have an office of my own. It is not very large, but…would you like to join me?"

Dahlia seemed to think for a moment, but she knew that she had already caught her prey. All she needed to do was reel in the line. She knew guys like him. He would be hers in a half hour. "I would love to," she said.

She _thought_ she knew 'guys like him'.

-

Kristoph's room was already dimly-lit. That was going to save some time. Dahlia stood in the frame of the door as Kristoph searched through a cabinet for something.

"Um, can I come in?" Dahlia said sweetly.

"Of course. Close and lock the door behind you," Kristoph added, and she obeyed. Kristoph's desk was smallish and covered with papers and a small, unlit fluorescent lamp; in fact, none of the lights in his room were lit, and the only light came through the small window against the back wall (and the sun was setting already anyway.)

Dahlia sat in a chair on one side of his desk, and she waited for him to return. When he did, he sat on the other side of the desk and placed a tall glass bottle and two drinking glasses on the table.

"Sparkling mineral water?" he said, sliding a glass across the table.

"Yes, please," Dahlia said gently, and Kristoph poured them both a drink.

"So, where are you from, Miss Foster?"

"Oh, I—I have an apartment a few blocks from here."

"Really?" Kristoph said, and he sat forward, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Do you live by yourself?"

"Um, yes."

"I see. That must be difficult for a girl like you, to live in solitude in the city." Kristoph smiled and took a drink, loosening his collar. Dahlia looked around and couldn't help but notice the beautiful night landscape paintings hanging all around on the walls. He spoke again and she immediately turned to face him.

"Where are you currently being schooled, Miss Foster?"

Dahlia shook her head, and to herself she scowled, focusing her contempt on herself. Was it her fault she felt strange every time the strange German young man spoke? She tilted her head and smiled.

"A-ah, I'm…I'm not in school right now. But, um, I was looking into enrolling in Ivy University soon."

"I see," Kristoph said. He sat back and took a drink. With his left hand, he urged Dahlia to do the same, and she poured the rest of her mineral water down her throat. "It's always a rewarding experience, going to university. Even in Germany I was a young prodigy. I studied law, of course, but also poetry. My professors told me that I have a flair for the dramatic."

Dahlia looked at his impeccable blonde hair and into his eyes and knew exactly what his professors were talking about. She sat back. "I see. I'm interested in poetry as well, but…my real interest is in law, of course."

"To be a good defense attorney, one must be the aegis of the innocent," Kristoph said. He finished his drink. "The defender of the meek must bear the burden of the world. A defense attorney cannot stop at knowing his case…he must first understand Law itself to know its offspring, a Trial."

"That's very romantic-sounding," Dahlia said, and chuckled. "I want to practice law…and I want to meet other smart lawyers…I just love being around law…"

Kristoph laughed and leaned in closer to Dahlia, who also seemed to be creeping closer, further towards the center of the table.

"It would seem so, Miss Foster. The thought of it seems to make you blush…"

"Ah! I'm—I'm sorry!" Dahlia said, turning her head. She looked away but stole glimpses of the young man across the table, the young man whom she knew was eyeing her hungrily, whom she knew she was in complete control of, yet— _Dammit__, I'm blushing? Why the hell…why do I feel like this? He's so…so…_

"Is something wrong, Miss Foster?"

"No, nothing," she said, turning back to Kristoph. She asked for another glass of mineral water; he poured glasses for both of them.

For a while they spoke about their backgrounds. Dahlia studied his every movement, eyed the diplomas framed on the wall, eyed the viola laid on its end on one of his bookshelves, surrounded by dusty, colorless books of law. She watched his face, and she felt funny knowing that he was watching everything but. He spoke casually without a touch of distraction. His eyes and his mouth were blind traitors playing their own games. Normally it would have bothered her. When he was sure she was watching him, Kristoph brushed a strand of hair from his face and spread his hands out on the table, nails painted clear.

"My little brother plans to become a prosecutor when he grows older…I wish I could dissuade him from that path, but alas!" Kristoph put his hands up and shook his head. He refilled their glasses. "Sometimes things are not meant to be."

"I know what you mean," Dahlia said angrily, and she turned her head away as she drank. "My sister's just as unreliable."

Kristoph raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," Dahlia said, realizing her mistake. She stared at her feet and shot the rest of her drink. "I didn't mean to snarl like that, I—"

"Miss Foster."

Dahlia looked up and Kristoph was standing over her, brushing a strand casually out of his face.

"M-Mr. Gavin?" Dahlia said sweetly, swallowing her saliva. She tried not to look into his eyes, but she was failing miserably. They were pulling her in. They were bottomless black holes hidden behind blue blue and they were swallowing her whole.

"Please, call me Kristoph," he said. He leaned in closer to peer at her pink face, into her eyes, into her soul. He was already past being professional, Dahlia could tell. She would have stopped him before he got any further, but her mouth went dry and she realized that she didn't want him to back off, she wanted him to come closer. She cursed at herself for letting her guard down and her mind told her to resist, but her body wouldn't obey.

"Kris-toph…"

"Miss Foster."

"No," Dahlia said, barely able to speak. "Call me Dahlia."

"Dahlia?" Kristoph said, raising his eyebrow. "Is that your nickname, Miss Foster?"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Dahlia said with an unmatched disdain for the outside world and everyone in it. He was tantalizingly close and she beckoned him to come closer. "What the hell's a name anyway?"

Kristoph pulled Dahlia up from her seat and kissed her, and he had to hold her to keep her from falling backwards. They stepped back and he spun her around until she was backed up against his desk.

"So passionate about studying law, are we?" Kristoph said between kisses, grinning.

Dahlia grimaced and leaned back. "N-no, we can't do this," she said meekly. "This isn't—this isn't—"

"You don't have to lie," Kristoph said, and he stroked her face with his hand, kissing her with lips sneering. She saw his blue eyes flicker and for a moment she felt something between fear and kinship.

"I don't care why you're here," Kristoph continued. "That is unimportant."

Dahlia kissed him and bit at his lower lip. She laughed and threw her hair back, still imprisoned in his long arms. "I hate the law. No judge should be able to tell me what to do,"

Kristoph sat her up on his desk. "I'm a perfect lawyer. I don't do this because I care about the practice. I do it for pride. I have a lot of pride in myself, you see."

"Kristoph," she said, kissing his neck.

"Your hair…red velvet and lace. Sweet, sweet temptations of fabric." She felt his breath against her neck, but she couldn't see his eyes.

Kiss kiss. "Is this some sort of game? Hurry up."

"Perfume, the smell of cinnamon and rose…the scent of temptation…"

"Damn you," she snarled. "Kiss me," and he did until she could barely see straight. She leaned backwards until she was on the desk flat on her back, and she pulled him down with her by his tie. Yes, he had won, he had broken her down, down to nothing but skin and bone and feelings. But—she fingered his blonde locks, wanted to dig her nails into his scalp—if she was going down, then the bastard was going down with her.

"I hate them all," Dahlia breathed, grinning with disgust and pleasure, not even knowing or caring who she was talking about.

Kristoph smiled, said, "I hate them all too," and devoured her.


End file.
